Aiming For The Groin
by Blazing Fool
Summary: In which our intrepid Mercenaries discuss, among other things, life, love, and the guesstimated size of Krauser's... uh, arm.


HUNK was drunk out of his goddamn mind _again_, the bastard. Leon had no idea where he was getting alcohol from, but had resolved to find out. Priority numero fucking uno, to use the local slang. Wasn't like Krauser would let _any _of them score a kill- no wonder HUNK had found time to get hammered.

"Can someone hit HUNK? Again?" he grumbled. The cop-turned-secret-agent allowed his feet to dangle off the edge of the pier lazily, making gentle trails in the salty water. A quick Del Lago flashback was all it took to get them out again. Sure, old fishface wasn't around in Waterworld, but the last time Leon had taken a risky chance he'd ended up bare-assed in a Russian hotel with a man named Tito.

Not _all_ of his bitter loner personality was derived from Raccoon.

"On it!" chirped Ada in a bright sing-song voice as she clubbed the masked gunman over the head with her M40. HUNK decided to take a break from his drunken caterwauling long enough to pass out and bleed. The trio of mercenaries simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thanks." Leon leaned back, winking appreciatively at an upside-down but somehow still sultry Ada Wong. "You always were good with the big guns, if you know what I mean."

"A phallus joke? Kennedy, you disappoint me." Wesker took a moment out of his (attempted) sniping long enough to Make A Snide Comment in Leon's general direction. His lensed eyes carefully targeted a lone Ganado, the sole witness of Krauser's rampage. "Now then, this one is just begging to be shot… Pitiful parasites, not half as strong as _our _products… Just hold still, and- Damn!" The ex-STARS commander let out a stream of fierce curses. "Krauser got him too, the lunatic."

"I think Krow's overcompensatin'." said Leon as Ada lazily plaited his hair, earnesty ringing in his words. "I mean come on, I'm just saying. Cameo pants? A beret? And that arm is covering for something, I'm sorry."

"Jealousy is becoming of you, Kennedy." Wesker murmured as his crosshairs sought Ganado blood. It was quite hard to get a bullet in edgewise with Krauser around; the painted psychopath was running around the floating fortress like an overtired soccer mom, ripping Ganados limb from limb and firing arrows into extremely awkward and painful locales.

"Leon has nothing to be jealous of Krauser for." said Ada soothingly as she finished the first braid. Leon beamed at her, and she felt some of her reputation slipping away, so she made good and sure to make the next braid extra frilly. _Drool over THIS, Graham. _

"Yes, I forgot just how intimate your knowledge of these things is." Wesker replied, gaze never wavering from the distant targets. He shifted awkwardly from his position on the ground, adjusting the barrel of the rifle against his shoulder. Jesus Christ above, hadn't these Spainards ever heard of good old fashioned steel and lasers? The classic sniper position was leaving splinters the size of Manhattan in his bishounen belly. Getting clawed in half by a Tyrant was _nothing _compared to this annoyance. "Whore." he added for good measure.

"So how big _is _Krauser, d'ya reckon?" Leon wondered aloud, laying his head in Ada's lap and his feet atop the gently snoring HUNK's rear end. "Six, maybe?"

Wesker grimaced. "Why are we even talking about this? I don't want to talk about this. Let's talk about something else."

Ada grinned, ignoring the grouchy Umbrella researcher/ex-STARS captain/traitorous manipulator/_fantastic _salsa dancer. "I didn't get an exact measurement, but I'd say you're off by about three."

"He's a nine?" Leon's eyes widened.

Ada shook her head. "Other way, sweetie."

"_Three_?" Leon snickered. "Told you he was overcompensating!"

Wesker finally gave up on making a dent in Krauser's slaughter, dropping his sight and rubbing his forehead wearily in a desperate attempt to discount the conspiratorial giggles behind him. "I swear to God, it's like Chris all over again. You've been hanging around Chateau Redfield again, haven't you?"

Ada glared down at the ruddy blonde in her lap. The sweet tone of her voice was almost enough to mask the underlying menace of its message. "_Have _you?"

Leon smiled innocently. "I assure you, I have no idea what Whiskers is talking aboHey is that Krauser? Hi, Krauser!"

The muscled archer arrived next to them, panting and out of breath. Wesker stood up off his stomach and brushed himself down, a fruitless endeavor but one retained out of habit. (Dust did not _dare _to touch Albert Gerald Wesker.) "Hey, guys?" said Krauser in answer to their unanimous stares. "I missed one."

Wesker opened his mouth to Make A Snide Comment and was immediately interrupted by the roar of a very loud, very menacing, and very double-bladed chainsaw. The foursome took one look at the esteemed physician Salvador Sr. and decided as one that whatever he was there to do, it did not involve any sort of hospital regimen with the possible exception of cranial amputation.

Leon S. Kennedy made an executive decision. "Hands up if you're cool with leaving HUNK behind?"

Several minutes later Mr. Death, sole survivor of a thousand missions up to and _including _Raccoon City awoke to the sight of towering darkness and the smell of gas. "Whazzat? Matilda? Told you, bitch, I don't have yer money-"

And things would have gone very bad indeed for him had an arrow not lodged itself in Salvador's eye socket at that very moment. Through the haze of alcohol and the weight of a 300 pound fallen corpse, it was all HUNK could do to keep from groaning at the sound of a distant yet triumphant _"Boom! Headshot!"_


End file.
